


The Return of the Queen

by knightcommanderalenko



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommanderalenko/pseuds/knightcommanderalenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Queen Elissa returns to Denerim, and to Alistair, after her long search to cure the Blight, and brings with her all the heart-breaking and heart-warming feelings that come along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return of the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both noblehouseoftargaryen and kalenkos for helping me with this work; without both of your motivation and metaphorical kicks up the backside, I probably would never have finished it :3

Alistair missed his wife. He missed the way her hair shone in the summer. He missed her un-ladylike snort when he made her laugh. He missed how they trained together; not for war, but for a chance to do something that didn’t require nobles or reports or meetings. Maker, he even missed her snoring.

The Queen had been gone for so long that Alistair had taken to wearing a locket with her likeness inside. He was scared that he would forget her face; the way one side of her mouth lifted before the other, and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. He was scared that he would not be able to remember her face.

He’d received no word of her, save a report that she’d been seen in Orlais roughly three months ago. That one report had sent his heart into some sort of supernatural acrobatics. Why had she been in Orlais? Had she found a cure to the Calling? When would she return to him?

Those three months had passed without any major incident. There had been moments when he’d considered abandoning Ferelden and following her trail, but after a number of stern conversations with his sort-of uncle, he realised that where he would be most helpful to his wife would be in the castle, surrounded by guards and boring nobles.

He’d had no choice but to stay and rule the country as best he could. Months of boring meetings, and being hounded by nobles who wanted to increase their social standing. Some had even begun to parade their daughters in front of him, like Elissa was dead and he were fresh out of mourning. Naturally, he hadn’t been entirely happy with that, and threatened to have the lords and ladies in question removed from Court should they try it again. On some occasions, it was good to be King, but on others, not so much.

It had been during one such tedious meeting when a soldier had burst through the large door into the study, startling Alistair out of a day dream involving cheese, Elissa, and a Mabari puppy.

“The Queen, Sire,” the soldier panted, “the Queen!”

Alistair shot out of his seat, knocking it to the ground. “What?” he demanded. His heart froze in his chest. If the soldier had news that she’d died, he’d… Truthfully, he wouldn’t know what he’d do.

The soldier was completely red in the face – running from the gates, up a large amount of stairs, and the entire way through the castle was no easy feat in full armour. “She’s returned, Sire.”

Alistair darted from the study, ignoring the scandalised looks of the lords and ladies in attendance. They were not his main concern, and never would be when compared to his wife.

He shot down the many flights of stairs, barely avoiding servants, maids, guards and the other staff, and reached the inner courtyard just as his wife did. She looked the same as he remembered; hair like a river of fire down her back, and grey eyes proud and unyielding. But she also looked exhausted. Dark circles had gathered under her eyes, like she hadn’t had a proper sleep since the night before she left, and despite the brave face she put forward to the gathering crowd, Alistair guessed that she was a few minutes away from completely collapsing.

He darted forward, parting the crowd, and gathered her in his arms. “Elissa, you- I hadn’t dared to hope.” His words were muffled by her hair, but by her resulting squeeze, he knew she heard him.

He released his crushing hug and took in the rest of her appearance. Her armour was sharp and blood-stained, but its previous glory was all but gone. The griffon filigree emblazoned across the breastplate had turned from gold to rust, and the dark metal had lost all shine.

Alistair gestured for servants to help the Queen. Her horse was unloaded and lead to the stables, while she was ushered off to bathe.

\---

He didn’t see her for a good hour. He spent most of that time ordering around the kitchen staff, making sure that her first meal home, and probably first real meal in quite some time, was a memorable one. Alistair’s schedule had been wiped; there were to be no guests, family, members of staff, or even guards present for the remainder of the afternoon. It was to simply be Elissa and him.

Waiting for Elissa to return from her chambers had been a nightmare. Alistair was a patient enough man, but the thought of his now-returned wife being in the castle but not with him had him nearly wearing a trail in the stone floor.

When she did finally come to him, the change in her nearly blew him away. Before, Elissa had been in full armour, covered in blood and dirt, and had looked like she was going to fall over. Now, her red hair fell in slightly-damp waves around her face, her skin was pink and rosy, and she looked nearly ten years younger than she did an hour before.

The pair ate, drank, and talked of nonsensical things to avoid the ever-looming elephant in the room; her leaving him in the middle of the night, with the smallest letter to explain where she’d gone, and without any sort of notice when she’d return to him. Now that she was back, and it had begun to sink in, Alistair found himself getting increasingly angry.

“Elissa,” he said, placing his goblet down on the table, “we need to talk.”

An innocent enough opening, Alistair could see that she immediately went on the defensive. A stone-like mask settled over her face, one that she usually kept especially for the more troublesome nobles. It had never been directed at him before, and truthfully, Alistair was a little nervous about the conversation looming ominously upon their horizon.

“What do you wish to know?”

It wasn’t a welcome question, or one that she offered freely. To Alistair, it seemed that she was only offering the information because she had to, rather than because she wanted to. What was it about her journey that she didn’t want him to know?

“Why did you leave me?”

His wife’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I left you a letter on your nightstand, so you know exactly why; the Taint isn’t going to cure itself.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, exasperated. “I would have come with you!”

Elissa rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you; it was dangerous, like I knew it would be, and we both know what happened last time Ferelden lost a king.”

Alistair couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She didn’t tell him simply because she didn’t think he could take care of himself. He’d survived the Blight, for the Maker’s sake. “And if Ferelden lost its queen?”

“Given the parade of noble women hanging onto your every word, I’d say they’d have a new one quite quickly,” she replied.

Did she honestly just-? Alistair had no idea why she would even think for a second that he’d replace her with one of the infectious, vapid, and utterly boring women at court. “Elissa, you know I don’t like them!”

“That was when I left,” she replied, her tone as exasperated as his own. “How am I supposed to know what happened while I was away?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t disappeared to cure the Calling, or in the very least had told me something about why you'd gone or when you’d return, we wouldn’t be having this problem” he spat, running his scarred hands through his hair. “Maker, Elissa, I didn’t even know you were alive!”

Elissa stared at her husband, her face as cold as the winter-chilled stone of the castle walls. She wasn’t surprised by his outburst, she’d actually been expecting it, but it hurt all the same. “I went. To cure. The Calling.”

Alistair snorted. “That’s honestly all you have to say?”

She threw her hands in the air, her temper flaring. “Yes, because I’m not sure if I actually did or not, Alistair!” That was the painful truth; what she had been so adamant on keeping from him. She actually had no idea if what she’d found far to the north was accurate, and even if it were physically possible without killing them. If it wasn’t, then she would have wasted more years of her already shortened life.

“I gave my research to Avernus, and Maker willing, he’ll find a way to make it useful.”

Alistair’s eyebrows shot straight to his hairline. “You went to Avernus?” He wouldn’t trust the mage as far as he could throw him; admittedly, he could probably throw him quite far, but that was completely beside the point.

“I went originally to find Grand Enchanter Fiona, but my sources tell me that she died.”

Yes, Alistair had heard about that. The one person in Thedas who’d successfully rid them self of the Taint was lost to them, and so too all of the knowledge she’d had on the subject. “Wait, since when did you have sources?”

Elissa raised one dark eyebrow. “I’m a Queen, Alistair,” she responded, bluntly. “I’ve always had sources; this particular one just happens to be a very talented spymaster.”

Alistair didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true that he had spies – he wouldn’t be an effective ruler without them – but he’d never considered that his wife would have them too. Then again, she’d been an active noble figure for far longer than he had, so if anyone in Ferelden would have sources, it would be her.

“You still haven’t explained to me why you left.” Alistair’s vice-like grip on his utensils turned his knuckles white. He could never before remember being so angry with Elissa; not even when he’d seen her briefly consider letting Isolde die to save Connor.

Elissa pushed her chair backwards, the wood screeching across the cold stone floor. “What part of ‘I went to cure the Calling’ did you not understand?”

Alistair had seen her angry, but had never taken the full brunt of her fury for himself. While her tone had started out quiet enough, by the end of her sentence he swore the clients of the Pearl on the other side of Denerim could hear her.

“You still haven’t explained to me _why_ you left.” Alistair’s voice wasn’t nearly as loud as hers but he knew that if she continued to dance around his questions, it soon would be. He would feel utterly terrible about yelling at her afterwards; he loved her with all his heart, but even he had his limits.

Alistair saw something change in his wife, then. It was almost if his last statement had caused something to snap.

“You were just content to do nothing, get the Taint and die in the Deep Roads!” She grabbed the nearest object, her metal goblet, and hurled it off the table. It collided with one of the stone walls with a bang, the remainder of her wine staining the floor beneath it.

Alistair was stunned. She’d never had an outburst like that before; one that would leave her shaking, and needing to take big gulps of air to calm herself down.

When she finally did speak, her words were more quiet, but held no less of a bite to them. “I wasn’t going to stand for that, not when a cure could mean a chance that I could still have children.”

Alistair flinched. He hadn’t considered that their lack of children would ever be one of her main concerns. He hadn’t even known she’d wanted them; she’d never mentioned it before, not even when he’d first mentioned it, so many years ago.

“Love, I-“ Alistair tried to interject, to tell her he was sorry for pushing her; sorry for not realising; sorry for-

Elissa didn’t let him have the chance. “And you did nothing.”

Her final sentence broke his heart. Alistair had never seen that look on her face before. It was one of a woman who had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for far too long; a woman who had taken on too much and had almost lost everything.

He ran around the table, not caring if he knocked anything off, and took her into his arms. He felt her sob against his chest, and heard her mutter “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over.

Alistair held her to him and gently rocked backwards and forwards on his heels. One of his hands went to her hair, and he crooned into her ear that he was with her, he wasn’t going anywhere and that everything would be alright. A tiny voice in his mind told him that this was much like one would soothe a child; something that hadn’t previously been an option.

Now that he knew why she’d gone, how much pain she’d been in, and her frustration at his lack of action, he no longer blamed her for leaving to search for a cure. He still wished that she’d told him of her unhappiness so that they could find a solution together, but that was long in the past.

What mattered is that she was safe, and home, and back in his arms.

“I- I missed you so much,” Alistair said, his voice breaking. He’d needed to express his anger and worry for so long that he couldn’t remember what actual happiness felt like. Holding her in his arms again felt strange; not unwelcome, just it had been so long that he’d forgotten what her body felt like against his, and the softness of her hair under his chin, and the way she smelled.

Elissa had been away for so long that he’d almost forgotten her, and it scared him. 

Alistair felt her expression change against his chest, and he glanced down to see her looking back up at him with puffy eyes.

“As I missed you.” Elissa knew in her heart that leaving had been the right choice, but that hadn’t made the many uncertain months any easier.

She looked at him closely for the first time since she’d returned. The lines on his face were new, caused in no small part by her disappearance, no doubt, as were the scars on his cheek and forehead. Alistair looked older than she remembered, but also more refined; he was more a king now than he had ever been.

“You changed your hair?” It wasn’t really a question, as it was definitely longer that she remembered, but it had taken her by surprise. Alistair’s golden locks were swept completely back, and the bits of hair that had previously stood up at his forehead had been wrangled down by some unseen force.

Alistair chuckled. “Teagan thought that its natural ability to stand up at the front made me look about ten years old, and thus _suggested_ that I change it.”

“Well, I liked it how it was,” Elissa replied, twisting some around her finger. “But I also like it now.”

“Well that’s good, because I think Teagan would kill me if I changed it back.”

Alistair’s expression was light, as if their previous argument hadn’t taken place. There was a brightness to his amber eyes that hadn’t been there before; in fact, it was like she’d never left at all.

Elissa smiled sweetly, and lent up to whisper something in his ear. “I think you still look very handsome.”

Something in her tone sent a shiver down his spine. They hadn’t seen each other for months, and surprisingly it hadn’t crossed his mind to celebrate it in a way that wasn’t food and wine.

“I know,” he replied, puffing out his chest.

Elissa raised an eyebrow. “You know?”

Alistair gave her a wicked smile. “The ladies at court have been telling me that for months, now.”

He saw the cogs spinning in her head, and smiled when her brow started to furrow. “I’m kidding, love,” he said, squeezing her tightly against him. “Well, technically I’m not; they did say those things, but only because they’d hope it would improve my opinions of them.”

Elissa squeezed him back. She’d known he was probably teasing her, but still, she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the women who’d spent time in her husband’s company while she’d been away. “And did it?”

Alistair laughed, and the sound made her realise how much she missed it. “Not a chance.”

Elissa smiled and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. “Good.”

She wasn’t sure who moved toward the other, but their long-awaited kiss after so many months of separation was almost as sweet as their first.

“I love you,” she said when they finally separated. “And no matter what I say or do, or where I go, nothing will ever change that.”

Alistair leant down briefly to place his forehead on hers. “I know,” he replied, giving her a bright smile. “And I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”


End file.
